Incriminating Evidence
by da-angel729
Summary: Jim finds a picture of Bones. Bones is embarrassed. Sort of.


**Author's Note:** Inspired by a photo by posted at **jim_and_bones** at LiveJournal where Karl Urban is posing with a man in a Cupid costume (the character Karl played on Hercules and Xena) and a prompt suggestion of _Bones is letting his Inner Geek out and sneaking off-campus to go to a comic convention_. I own nothing you recognize. As always, feedback and con crit appreciated!

**Incriminating Evidence**

"Bones! You've been holding out on me."

Jim enters the dorm room like the always does—without knocking and with a grin on his face, holding a PADD above his head. Leonard knows it won't change how many times he complains—Jim figures it doesn't matter because he's always welcome.

He's relieved to see Jim, who'd just spent the last two weeks on a training mission in the middle of nowhere, in one piece, but worried about the grin Jim's sporting. No matter how good it is to see him—and he's never going to admit he missed him—Leonard has to complain. "I'm studying, Jim. Go away."

It's not going to work, and Leonard gives up almost immediately and pushes his own PADD away—he doesn't really need to study for his final, as he's been number one in his Xenobiology class since the very first day—and looks up at Jim. He looks ridiculous, Leonard thinks, and tries to figure out the expression Jim is wearing.

It's gleeful, Leonard decides after a few moments of observing, and the smile stretched across it is the biggest one he's ever seen on Jim Kirk's face.

Leonard debates jumping out the window to escape, but that's extreme. Even for him.

"Did you get up to something while I was away?" The question _sounds_ innocent, but combined with the grin and the PADD Jim's waving in the air, Leonard's on guard immediately.

"I don't know what you mean," he says, though he knows the denial won't help. He can already see the writing on the wall. Or, in this case, the _photo_.

Jim's grin gets even bigger—and Leonard doesn't see how that's possible, really, but he watches it happen—and he flips the PADD around.

Damn.

It's _the _photo.

From the San Francisco Comic Book Convention, which Leonard had gone to while Jim was away. He's always been a fan—he enjoyed how the good character always triumphed in the end, even if it looked hopeless—and when he'd heard his favorite writer and character was going to be there, he couldn't resist.

The photo Jim is currently displaying is from the second day, when Leonard had—against his better judgment, but he'd been mostly drunk by then and not entirely aware of his actions—volunteered to go on stage and help demonstrate the fighting techniques of Leather Man. This picture was after the display, and the angle isn't one of his best.

"Bones," Jim says, disbelief coloring his voice, "listen to this.'Doctor Leonard McCoy, a renowned surgeon and a third-year cadet at Starfleet Academy, poses with Leather Man after demonstrating the fighting techniques used by the superhero at the San Francisco Comic Book Convention.'" He shakes his head. "Leather Man? Seriously?"

"He's a classic. Jim. You just don't appreciate or understand the cultural value of embracing the everlasting fight between good and evil…" Leonard trails off when Jim laughs, a loud honk that echoes through the dorm room.

Damn. He knows he can go into rants, but he's never done it over something as trivial as a comic book character before. Leonard doesn't know if he can salvage his dignity—highly doubts it—but has to try.

"I was drunk," he mutters. "Can't be held responsible for my actions."

"You would've done it sober," Jim says, and Leonard can't even deny it. "Demonstrating fighting techniques? I didn't know you knew any."

Leonard's face is bright red, and he buries his face in his hands. "Shut up, Jim. Just because I have a hobby that is not quite…"

"Oh, man, I've got to keep this," Jim says, interrupting Leonard, who honestly doesn't feel anything but relief. He's digging himself deeper with every word he speaks, but can't quite help himself. Leonard knows the photo already saved to Jim's PADD, to be whipped out in the future when he needs leverage.

Still, Jim's smirking at him, a wicked glint in his blue eyes, and Leonard isn't _that_ embarrassed—and he _really _needs to stop lying to himself—and is just grateful the photographer didn't snap a picture of him the first day of the convention.

He'd been wearing a Leather Man costume he'd spent the last year sewing—by hand—whenever Jim wasn't around.


End file.
